The air raid sirens wailed
And the bombs began to drop,
Destroyers and battleships sailed
While life ground to a stop;
But for us, not the smoke
The shattered glass and dreams,
We are not wrapped in fear’s cloak
The crying and the screams;
Where courage rose in veins
When the bugle call was sounded,
The thin air carried it’s strains
Across the dead bodies mounded;
But we say hello every day
For love we do not lack,
Not for us to enter the fray
Or loved ones that didn’t come back;
Our mettle is untested
No despair in which to fall,
Our spirits asleep and rested
Still waiting for the call.
-
Author:
Paul Gerard Reed (
Offline) - Published: August 15th, 2025 03:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
A sense of pride and courage of service men, always prepaired to defend when called upon, nicely expressed and written
The well written rhyme and rhythm of the meter in this poem carries the story of military pride. Nicely written enjoyed it.
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